The Rose and the Prince
by Pinoko K
Summary: Two Wardens, one night. There is something in the air they can no longer deny. One-shot. Companion piece to The Rose of Highever, but can perfectly be read as a stand-alone story.


Dragon Age

The Rose of Highever – supplement

Summary: Two Wardens, one night. There is something in the air which they can no longer ignore.

A/N: Fluff warning is needed for this one shot. It's so fluffy is not funny. If you know about the birds and the bees, nothing should be news to you in this story. If you don't know about that topic, skip this. Officially it's a one shot. Setting is that night they exited the Tower of Magi. That is somewhere between chapter 12 and 13. They spent the night at the inn by the dock. It's perfectly okay if you haven't read The Rose of Highever. Just treat this as one shot, as it is meant to be.

I'll just pretend Antivan is Spanish. I based my decision after consulting with my good friend who's a native Italian in Italy, and my husband who speaks fluent Spanish. When Zevran said "Yes, love" in game, he was speaking Spanish.

There's a very tiny Mass Effect 2 easter egg. This time it's not Garrus' line, but Thane's. If you don't get it, don't worry. It's there just for fun and because it's fitting, as usual. And the line about Alistair falling off stairs, it's intentionally mirrored what Maric said in the book.

This one written is for Jinx, so she was the one who read it first. And she was super nice enough to beta it for me. Never have beta before so it's a nice change to know there's someone I can fall back on this time. I had the most fun writing this. Almost forgot how much fun it was to write light and fluffy stuff. Writing this story makes me realize how much Alistair and Samantha have changed. Hope you enjoy it.

Oh one more thing: remember Alistair is just a normal 21 year old guy. That's all I'll say.

* * *

**The Rose and the Prince**

* * *

A nice warm bath was exactly what she needed after being trapped inside the Tower of Magi with endless demons readied to turn her into one of them. However, the demons didn't unsettle her as much as her own experience in the Fade did. Thank the Maker none of her companions had seen her dream, she took small comfort in that. Samantha dunked her head into the warm water before emerging with a sigh. Leliana had put some fragrant bath oil in the water before they dripped in. Rosy scent calmed her nerves, reminding her of the rose garden her mother had back in Highever. The garden was all but gone now, as with everyone she had ever loved. Everything was destroyed in one night. She would have perished too, had Duncan not rescued her from the massacre. Samantha took a long breath to clear her mind. With her eyes closed and the sweet floral scent surrounding her, she could pretend she was sitting in her mother's garden, basking in warm sunlight, with hundreds of roses blooming all around her.

But when she opened her eyes, the garden was gone. Samantha wistfully wondered if she would even see a rose again.

"What do you think about him?" asked Leliana who was toying with a towel in the bath next to her.

"Who?" asked Samantha as she slicked her wet hair back from her face.

"Oh, don't play coy. You know who..." The bard's melodic voice lowered playfully.

Samantha had a guess, but she was not about to jump to any conclusion.

"Alistair." Leliana deliberately pronounced every syllable of his name then asked again, "So, what do you think about him?"

_Friendly, funny, has the warmest eyes and the kindest heart._ But Samantha chose a different answer for the bard. "He is smarter than he even thinks he is."

"You know him well," said Leliana with a knowing smile.

"It's not hard to understand why he is who he is today, from the way he was treated at Redcliffe, to being cast off to the chantry as a child," commented Samantha. "If he had Cailan's training, I dare say he would make a better king than his half-brother." Samantha was not pleased with herself once again comparing the two brothers unconsciously. But words had already been spoken.

"But, what do you _really_ think about him?" asked Leliana once more. "A bit awkward, but charming, no? He's a very nice boy, a wonderful person. Certainly cute. And funny, too."

There was a twitch in her gut, which Samantha pointedly ignored. With her face carefully composed, Samantha asked, "You like him?"

"Of course I do," Leliana paused for a second then corrected herself, "Not that way. He is quite fond of you."

The poised Lady Cousland couldn't control the heat raising up on her face, and it had nothing to do with the warm bath they were in. "He told you that?" she asked cautiously, taking extra care not to sound too eager.

"Well, he didn't say it out loud, but it's obvious, no? He's not very good at being subtle."

Samantha didn't dare to ponder on that observation, not after what she had gone through in the Fade. The crafty sloth demon had invaded her mind and created an alluring dream based on her very brief childhood fascination for Cailan. And when she began to doubt her feelings for the handsome king, the demon made adjustments in response to her subconscious mind's requests, turning the late king into the bastard prince right in front of her eyes. The morph had unsettled her enough to wake her up. It still rattled her now that she was very much awake in the bath. The physical morph itself bothered her less than the suggestion behind it. The sloth demon had to create the most desirable environment based on her most inner thoughts to keep her trapped in the Fade. When the image of Cailan did not worked as well, it turned into Alistair. _Does it mean...? No..._

Samantha ran a hand through her wet hair, golden locks darkened a few shades by the water. "Maybe because we're thrown into this Blight. There are only the two of us left. He has lost everyone, so have I." It was as much of a justification to herself than to Leliana.

The bard nodded knowingly. "But you have found each other. Some of the greatest love stories happened during the most tragic settings. Beauty can be found in the most unexpected time and place."

"Like the rose you saw in the chantry in Lothering?" asked Samantha as she purposely ignored the first part of Leliana's statement. Love stories? There would be time enough to dream about love stories later tonight. Right now, she was still very much awake. Where else could a love story exist in dark times like these if not in the Fade?

"Exactly," Leliana smiled sweetly then pondered. "I wonder what happened to that miracle rose..."

* * *

A nice nap was what he needed after being trapped inside the Tower of Magi with a bunch of crazy blood mages and drooling mindless templars. Of course, there was that sloth demon as well, how could he forget? Was there any place he despise more than the Fade? Well, Alistair could certainly think of some, but the Fade had to be his top five least favorite place in Ferelden – if it was even considered to be in Ferelden to start with. The Tower itself wasn't his favorite place, either. It reminded him a bit too much of his days as a templar before Duncan rescued him from his misery. Thank the Maker he had never taken the final vow. Climbing those endless staircases and fighting those lunatic-mage-turned-demon monsters had taken a toll on him. So much so he had immediately fallen a sleep with his armor on when he finally got to his room in the inn.

And when he opened his eyes, the room was still dark. Alistair absently wondered if he had slept through the entire day.

He had no idea what time it was, only knew that his stomach was growling. Alistair reluctantly rolled off the bed, pleasantly surprised that he didn't fall onto the floor face first. He began to take off his armor in the dark with practiced ease. Soon, every piece of his armor piled up on the floor beside him, leaving him with only his shirt and pants. With the weight of his armor now off his back, the young Warden stretched his sore muscles and rotated his shoulders, wincing when he heard a loud pop. Alistair peeled off his sticky damp shirt and tossed it on the bed. The air from the window cooled his skin as he heard another growl coming from his stomach. The muscles on his shoulders were sore beyond belief, yet his grouchy stomach was the one that demanded his immediate attention.

Alistair sighed and reached for his shirt once again. But he paused and reconsidered it. It was certainly late, and there was probably no one else in the kitchen below. What's the harm of walking in for a quick bite without his shirt on? After all, he wasn't pantless. Or was he? That thought made him glance down to check. Yes, his pants and boots were still on, he noticed with relief.

Alistair flung open the door. The hallway was bright comparing to his pitch dark room, blinding him momentarily. But it wasn't the light that stopped him in his track. There were two figures approaching from down the narrow hallway of this tiny inn. The blonde one, in particular, had his full attention.

By now, he had seen his dear fellow Warden with her hair down, to be sure. If he was slightly honest with himself, he would admit that he liked her with her hair draping down her shoulders. And if he could be even more honest than that, he would admit that at times he would fight the urge to reach out and curl those golden locks in his fingers.

But it was not how she wore her hair that paused his track. It was her shirt. Or, more specifically, how translucent the white fabric became when it was damped by the wet hair falling over her shoulders. Under the hallway lamp, he could see more than a hint of those curves hidden underneath if he stared hard enough.

"Why, hello there, Alistair," greeted Leliana with an impish smile on her face. He didn't like the way she was smiling at him. She was up to no good, Alistair could just feel it.

"Er, hello." Was that all he had to say? Where did his wits and charm go? All he knew was his mouth went a little too dry.

"Remember what I said about beauty being found in the most unexpected time and place?" Leliana said to Samantha, yet her aqua-blue eyes remained on him, trailing up and down around the area of his torso.

It was then he remembered he had only his pants and boots on. His eyes widened as a burning blush could be felt from his ears rushing down to his navel, the bastard prince was beyond flustered. Thankfully when he dared to glance over at Samantha, he found her politely adverted her gaze, trying to hold back a half smile. The pink tint on her face made her look even lovelier than usual.

It was then a realization hit him: she wasn't looking at him. He wasn't that horrible to look at without his shirt, was he?

* * *

The patterns on the floor were nowhere as interesting as the muscles on his chest, yet Samantha forced herself to keep her eyes politely down, lest she would be gawking. Surely she had seen him without his shirt on a few times, but it was usually from afar. Now, he was close enough for her to touch if she would just reach out her hand and brush her fingers on...

She swallowed hard and halted her train of thought before it went too far. Being in the Fade had done something to her head. It had to be. Or else she couldn't quite explain the butterflies in her stomach right about now.

Luckily for her, Leliana provided a decent distraction. "So, where are you going, Alistair? Without your shirt on, if I might add?"

Alistair coughed uncomfortably. "I was just going to... er... get some water from the kitchen."

Samantha barely managed to suppress a giggle about escape from her lips. Sky blue eyes met warm hazel ones knowingly, both had a spark of mischief in their mirrored smiles. "Getting some water from the kitchen" was their secret code for raiding the inn's kitchen for midnight snacks. The Joining had increased their appetites, and more often than not, the two Wardens would find themselves craving for food long after the kitchens had been closed. It's not uncommon for them to go hunt for food together. In fact, they had done it so often it had almost become a private ritual for them. Over their midnight snacks, they would trade stories and jokes, taking friendly jabs at each other, or discussing matters currently on their agenda. As nights passed by, their bond grew stronger, their connection deepened.

Despite being almost inseparable, despite all those nights spending in each other's company, somehow Alistair had been nothing but polite to her. Never once had he taken advantage of her. Had he been any other men, Samantha suspected she would have to hit him with frying pans in the kitchen at least once by now. But Alistair remained a perfect gentleman. So much so Samantha had decided he merely saw her as a comrade, or perhaps a good friend, but nothing more.

What she saw in the Fade made her question her own most inner desire. What she had found, what the demon had shown her, was standing right in front of her, close enough for her touch, yet unattainable. Samantha let out a silent sigh.

"Well, I'm going to bed, I don't know about the two of you..." Leliana glanced meaningfully between the two Wardens. "Goodnight, Alistair. Goodnight, Samantha." She leaned in and gave a soft peck on each side of Samantha's cheeks.

The Orlesian bard disappeared into her room, leaving the two Wardens standing quite awkwardly in the hallway, until Alistair broke the silence. "I don't mean to pry, but are the two of you...?" he trailed off with a cough.

Samantha stared at him dubiously. "What?"

"You know... Together?"

It took her two full seconds to get the true meaning of his question. And when she finally did, her eyes widened in shock. "What? Maker! No! No! Where did you get that idea from?"

"She just... kissed you?" He shrugged sheepishly, donning on his puppy face in preemptive defense.

Samantha laughed in relief. "She does that sometimes. It's the Orlesian culture, especially among female friends."

* * *

Never had he felt so stupid yet so relieved at the same time. There was some strange bitterness inside his mouth when he saw Leliana kissing Samantha goodnight. He did not like that sight a single bit, as hot as it might be.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckled to hide his embarrassment. "Right. Of course... I was joking, you know..."

Luckily for him, she didn't press the topic. Alistair wasn't surprised she would let him off the hook so easily. She had always been nice since the first day he met her, so nice that he still had a hard time picturing her as a snobby noble. Perhaps there were some kind nobles after all. Somehow he doubted it. The only nice one was right in front of him.

"So are you getting some water from the kitchen?" she said with a knowing smile.

He laughed at their inside joke. "Well, if you are 'thirsty', you are more than welcome to join me."

To that, she let out a soft giggle. He was proud to get that reaction from her, knowing she was mostly rather stoic when she had her Warden face on in front of the others. But when she was with him alone, she allowed her guard down and be the sweet young woman he knew she was, hidden behind all her titles. And that was the Samantha he liked more and more each day.

"I could use a drink."

"Why am I not surprised?" He raised one eyebrow and looked her over once teasingly, earning himself a playful smack on his bare arm. It did not hurt at all, yet he feigned a wince and whined, "Ow! I didn't say you're fat!"

Then came another smack just as light as the previous one. "If I'm fat it's _your_ fault!" The lovely smile she couldn't suppress ensured him she was in on the joke as much as he was.

"Hey, how is it my fault?" he complained.

"I'd never raided a kitchen at midnight until I met you!" She wrinkled her nose at him. He always found her extremely adorable when she did that, although he had never told her that. Nor did he plan to.

"You'd never raided a kitchen at midnight until you met me?" he pronounced every word slowly as though he was completely shocked she had never done such a common activity.

There it was, her indignant look with her shoulders squared and her chin tilted slightly up. Now she looked every inch a noble lady. "Most certainly not! Old Nan wouldn't let anyone near her kitchen when she's not around." Her composure dropped when she broke into a soft smile at her memories. "She'd have my hide if she found out I sneaked around in her kitchen."

"Who would dare try to skin our Lady Samantha?"

"Old Nan would. Even my mother was afraid of her..." There was yet another faint giggle. "Well, are you going to put on a shirt, or are you planning to walk around half naked to act as the distraction when I raid the kitchen?

"Distraction? Me?" He blinked innocently.

"You are the perfect bait to distract some maids that might still be downstairs." The mischievous smile on her lips made him like her even more. That was a side of hers that leaked through only when her guard was down. He was more than glad to notice the softer side was only reserved for him.

Had her smile not distracted him momentarily, he would have noticed her gaze had landed on his torso much earlier. Suddenly, he became very self-aware of his bare chest.

His ears felt a bit hotter than it should as the meanings behind her words dawned on him. "I... er... I'll go get my shirt." He smiled sheepishly and hurried back into the darkness of his room. Not taking the time to allow his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, Alistair fumbled blindly around the unfamiliar layout. Just when he thought he reached the bed, he tripped over the abandoned armor he had so carelessly tossed on the floor earlier. "AH!"

"Alistair? Are you all right?" Samantha called out from the doorway.

"Ow..." He nursed the elbow that had bumped onto the wooden frame of the bed.

"Alistair?" Now her voice was closer.

He straightened himself quickly. "I... I'm fine! Don't come in here, I don't want you to get-"

It was too late.

He heard her scream as she too was tripped by his armor and slammed squarely onto him. Instinctively, he grabbed onto her before she fell down. He took an immediate step back to balance himself, but the back of his leg hit the edge of the bed. Alistair fell backward and unceremoniously landed onto the mattress, taking Samantha down with him.

He immediately noticed two very distinctive things: the sweet floral scent from her hair and her skin, and the incredible softness of the body that was lying on top of him. He took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself at the thought of the latter. The floral scent filled his senses, calming him down. But the mere thought of her breasts pressing onto his chest was more than enough to make his heart race. And to actually feel them like he did right now downright made it pump so fast he was sure his heart would explode any second. He was extremely aware that the only thing separating them was the thin fabric of her shirt; and that his hand was grabbing onto something round and soft on her back; and that her lips were pressing onto the base of his neck, his on her forehead; and that her warm breath was tickling his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

Blood rushed from his face down to his torso, and continued its merry way south. Alistair froze in horror.

* * *

Her little accident startled her, but the pounding sound of a very rapidly beating heart she could hear clearly wasn't hers. Her own heart beat at a slower pace, she could feel it. Samantha lifted her face from a very warm surface and looked up. The room was dark, but she could see the faint outline of his features from the dim hallway light flooding in through the open door. His eyes widened, staring straight into hers. His breath short and rapid, tickling her skin.

Upon realizing she was lying on top of him, possibly squeezing the breath out of him with her weight, Samantha hastily pushed herself away and got back on her feet, mumbling several apologies as she straightened herself up.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

For the longest moment, Alistair just laid still without saying a word.

Worried, Samantha took a step closer and reached for his arm. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He jumped at her touch. Samantha backed up instantly. His skin felt hot to touch during the brief contact, she noticed. "...Alistair?" she tried once more.

"I- er... I'm all right. I'm fine." He coughed and pushed himself up slowly.

"Did you pull a muscle when I tripped onto you?"

She heard his soft chuckle in the dark. "Something like that..."

"Oh, Maker. I am so sorry," she apologized again.

"Not your fault..." He stood up rather oddly. "I- I hurt myself."

His normally casual tone was now strained. Samantha frowned in concern. "Where did it hurt?"

"W-what?"

"Where did it hurt?" she repeated the question patiently. "Let me see how bad it is."

"NO!" The sudden raise of both the volume and the pitch of his voice startled her. He quickly lowered it back. "I mean, no, no thank you. I'm fine, really. Er... why don't we go back doing whatever we were doing before... before..."

"You were going to get some food?"

"Right! That! Food... Food is good..." He cleared his throat once more. "My shirt... where is it- Oh, there it is. Let's go raid the kitchen, right? Let's..."

Something was wrong about him, Samantha knew. He must have hurt himself more than he let on when she knocked him down, and he was too kind to let her know. But she was not about to push for an answer if he didn't want her to know. Tactfully, she retreated back to the hallway, with extra care this time, absently wondered if there was any healing potion left in her pack. He could use some.

* * *

Alistair thanked the Maker and His bride for the length of his shirt. It was long enough to cover his crotch. Now, as long as he kept his pace ahead of her, she would not notice anything wrong. Right?

Wrong. He had underestimated her.

"Did you hurt your leg?" she asked as they were walking down the stairs.

Alistair tripped on his own foot at the sudden and very observant question. His reflex saved him from rolling his way down the rest of the stairs as he grabbed onto the rail and steadied himself. He heard her gasping behind him. "I'm fine!" He quickly waved a dismissive hand before she could get closer. "I fall down flights of stairs all the time. It's this thing I do."

He hurried to clear the rest of the stairs and headed to the kitchen before she could say anything else. Grabbing a loaf of bread, he broke it and shoved it in his mouth quickly. With his mouth full, he wouldn't have to answer any more questions for a while. Yes, that was an ingenious plan.

She joined him in the kitchen and got herself a glass of water instead. Just as he had expected, she didn't say anything when he was eating. She was always considerate like that; Alistair felt guilty using her virtue against her. But what he had not expected was a sudden squeal from her, breaking the rather comfortable silence.

Alistair glanced over at her direction in alarm. That was a big mistake.

"What's wrong?" he asked with his mouth half-full.

One of her hands was over her heart as she was taking a few deep breaths. "Oh, nothing. A rat ran over one of my boots," she explained rather embarrassingly. "At least I hope it was just a rat."

She lifted her hand from her heart and pushed her hair back from her face. It was then Alistair noticed most of the water in the glass had been spilled on her shirt. More specifically, right over her chest. His mouth froze from chewing as his eyes almost bulged at the sheerness of her shirt. It was more than damp; it was downright wet, clinging onto her chest like a second transparent skin. Every curve unintentionally revealed to his very eyes – the roundness of the breasts, the perkiness of the-

Alistair almost whined in disappointment when Samantha turned away to put down her now emptied glass. It was then he realized he had been gawking, and blood had once again rushed down south, almost painfully so this time. He took a hard gulp, swallowing the bread, lest it would fall out of his mouth. But his mouth was too dry, he couldn't quite stop the cough when small pieces of bread refused to go down and tickled his throat.

Samantha rushed right to his side, both to his absolute delight and utter horror. With a very concerned look on her face, she patted his back as he coughed. It wasn't until his cough began to subside that he could feel her breasts pressing onto his arm, her floral scent once again filled his senses.

And he thought he couldn't be more aroused.

Alistair froze, not trusting himself to move a single muscle, lest he might lose control of himself. Fortunately, Samantha stepped back as soon as his cough died down. Despite the welcome break, he couldn't deny the sudden surge of emptiness inside him when the warmth of her soft body parted from his.

"Let me get you some water," she offered.

Alistair slumped down on the only chair in the small kitchen, not quite caring it wasn't a gentlemanly thing to do to take the chair while the lady had to stand. It was safer for _her_ if he sat down and covered himself up. The thought of standing right next to her, towering over her easily by half a head, was enough for him to give up whatever control he's trying to reign in, and just take her in his arms and...

A glass of water appeared in front of his face, stopping that racy train of thought. He took it and glanced up to thank her. But words died inside his throat when he found out her breasts were right in the line of his sight. Her wet shirt still clung to her skin, so transparent she might as well have been naked. He was more than close enough to have the perfect view of everything underneath. Everything. If he extended his hand just a little bit further he could easily touch them.

Terrified by his own thoughts, he downed the water in one gulp, trying to douse whatever temptation that was inside his head. His free hand strategically placed on his lap to cover the bulge. She took the glass from him wordlessly and stepped back to put it down. Alistair released a breath he didn't know he was holding when his face was no longer inches away from her bosom. He kept his eyes on the grimy floor, on the interesting cracks on the wooden table, anywhere but the woman in the same room.

He knew he desperately needed to distract himself with some other things, anything to diminish his increasing painful arousal. And he found it through his aching shoulders. Even though somehow they didn't hurt as much as they did just now, he grabbed onto the sore muscles on one shoulder and rotated it. Hoping against hope that pain worked just as well as a icy cold bath.

Alas, his actions only attracted Samantha's attention even more. "What's wrong?" she asked with her clear blue eyes on him, they were ready to see through all his lies as she always did.

"Oh... nothing. Just... shoulder pain. Napping on that cold hard floor in the tower could do that to a person." He chuckled feebly. Yes, the thought of that ugly sloth demon would definitely make him feel anything but excited. He was such a genius.

She went quiet for a long while. Alistair didn't look at her, fearing that his eyes would betray him and wander away from her face to the dangerous temptation behind her wet shirt. "Let me help you," she eventually declared.

"What?" He was genuinely confused.

Instead of answering him, she moved to stand behind him. Her small hands laid on each side of his shoulder and began to massage the tight muscles. Alistair was stunned beyond words.

For the longest moment, both were silent. Tension began to melt at her touch as her fingers continued to work on the sore muscles. Her magic touch was simply divine, so much so Alistair couldn't keep a pleasurable groan from escaping through his lips.

He heard a faint giggle behind him. "Feeling better now?"

"Much better..." He let out a content sigh. For a very brief second, he was worried that she would stop. But she didn't. Thank the Maker. "Where did you learn to do this anyway?"

Her fingers gave a harder squeeze, it was anything but painful. "_This_ is Antivan massage. My brother's wife taught me. Oriana was from Antiva."

"Oh? Is this what you noble ladies do beside gossiping? Teaching each other massages?"

She slapped his shoulder lightly before going back to massage it. "I saw her doing this to my brother. Then, a few times after training with our master-at-arms, my muscles were so sore that she gave me massages. As you can probably feel it right now, it works wonders. I was curious, so she taught me. Oriana said it was a great skill to learn not for myself, but for..." she trailed off.

"For...?"

There was a long pause before she continued wistfully, "For my future husband."

Alistair didn't know if he should feel glad he had the honor to experience it first, or jealous that some other man in the future would be in his place right now. His emotions had been running as wild as a headless chicken tonight, he was beyond confused. So he decided to move on to a safer topic instead. "So what else did she teach you?"

"She taught me how to speak Antivan."

"You know how to speak Antivan?" He was more than surprised.

He heard a soft laughter, then her fingers stopped. He almost groaned in disappointment but stopped himself when he felt her leaning down close to him and whispered, "Si, amor."

For the second time tonight, a shiver crept up his spine. That was the sexiest thing he had ever heard. Perhaps it was because of the way the she whispered to him behind his ear, or how those exotic foreign words sounded rolling of her tongue. She could be calling him a sodding nug humper for all he cared, he just wanted to hear it again and again.

"What was it?" he asked as casually as he could. "Do you mind saying it again?"

* * *

"No," she firmly refused.

In truth, Samantha was horrified at what she just did so impulsively. That line was the first thing came to mind when she recalled a language she had not heard of for so long, especially one she could barely speak to start with. Surely she remembered it only because of how often she had heard Oriana say that to Fergus, right?

"Aw, you just called me stupid in Antivan, didn't you?" he jested with a whine.

She playfully slapped his shoulder again. "You are far from stupid, and you know it."

Chuckling, he asked again, "So what did you just say?"

She gave his shoulders a final squeeze and stepped away from him. "Someday I'll tell you what it means."

"Hey, that's not fair!" He turned around and faced her. "You promised no more secrets between us!"

Samantha arched an eyebrow at him, resisting the pup face he was giving her. "That I did. But this is hardly a secret."

"Then you can tell me what that means, can't you?" He certainly could be persistent if he wanted to.

Knowing she couldn't resist that look of his much longer, she pointedly ignored him and walked back upstairs. Predictably, he followed at her heels like a loyal pup.

"I told you." She paused on the first step and turned back to face him. With the help of the stair, she found herself being elevated to his height and staring straight into his hazel eyes. He had the warmest eyes she had ever seen. Butterflies returned to her stomach and flustered harder than ever. Heat started to build up on her cheeks as she smiled and said, "Someday."

* * *

"You'd better. Or I'll keep thinking you just called me stupid," he jested as he followed her up the stairs. "Can you at least say that... whatever it is again?"

"No." She laughed softly. As ridiculous as it might be, the sound of her soft laughter warmed his heart. She had the kindest soul he had ever met. She was not meant to be living in dark times like these, tragedies were not supposed to be surrounding her like a pack of hungry wolves, ripping her apart in just one single night. If only he could shield her from all the harm that came into her life.

He might not be able to change her past, but he knew he could protect her from now on.

Her hips swayed right in front of him as she walked up the stairs, distracting him from his rather noble thought. He followed that lovely sight up, so enthralling that he could probably match straight through the gates of the Dark City itself as long as she was leading him.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Alistair soon found himself walking behind her, once again towering her smaller frame. But that didn't stop him from looking. "So, what did you see in your dream just now?"

She jumped at the question and whipped around. "What?"

She did not expect he would follow so close, nor did he expect her to react so strongly at that casual question. With his eyes glued to her behind, Alistair didn't halt fast enough and bumped into her. His hand was on her back immediately, steadying her. She glanced up at him, eyes widened in surprise. Her face, once again for the second time tonight, was merely inches from his. Although this time, instead of being hidden in the dark, he could see her delicate features very clearly under the dim light of the hallway. Soft cheeks flushed with deep pink, long lashes flustered as she blinked, blue eyes suddenly cast downward, avoiding his gaze. But it was her parted lips that caught his attention the most.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from those rosy lips. He absently wondered what they would taste like, if they would be even softer than they looked. His mind wandered further south, his eyes followed. From the smoothness of her neck straight down. He watched, fascinated by the rising of her breasts with each breath she took. He could easily make out every soft curve hidden underneath her damp shirt. He couldn't help but recall the sensation when they were pressing onto his chest, how soft they were. With his hand still resting on her back, Alistair was painfully aware that he would only need to press her just a little more towards him to feel her against him once more. It took every single ounce of his well-trained self-control not to give into that damnable temptation.

But the temptation only grew stronger when his now twisted mind reminded him how it felt when his fingers unintentionally dug into her round behind. His hand twitched as he was fighting an urge to slide it all the way down to give her hindquarter another squeeze.

His self-control was rapidly losing the battle against his own desire; his mind continued to wander as his eyes roamed about rather freely. Yet, she never stopped him, nor did she seem to want him to stop. Her downcast gaze and the dark pink tint on her cheeks turned into an invitation to draw him closer. The shortness of her breath and her slightly parted rosy lips lulled him in even more. The floral scent from her hair further intoxicated all his senses.

He found himself leaning closer and closer, his gaze fixed on the curves of her lips. The only thought he had in mind was just how sweet they would taste.

A loud slam of a door around the corner startled them. Big blue eyes blinked in shock then landed on his, dazed and embarrassed. When she took a quick step back from him, Alistair swore every curse he knew internally as he ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh.

She looked everywhere but him, biting her lower lip. He should be the one who was supposed to bite it. "It's late..." she whispered breathlessly before turning towards the direction of her room.

"Wait!" he called out, almost reaching out to take her hand, but he managed to refrain. He didn't know if he could control himself any further if he touched her.

She glanced up at him curiously. Her gaze upon him was soft, almost loving if he would dare to delude himself into thinking. There was a hint of tender smile playing on her very kissable lips – ones he would have been tasting by now had there not been a rude interruption.

"What is it?" Her voice remained low and breathless. It tickled all his senses more than she would ever know.

"Stay with me tonight." That was what he truly wanted to say. But when words came out, he heard himself saying, "Thank you for asking the First Enchanter to save Connor."

The disappointment on her face was almost too painful for him to watch. Alistair had never hated himself as much as he did right now.

* * *

She swallowed hard and pushed all the emotions aside. What _did_ she expect him to say? Did she expect him to sweep her off her feet and kiss her like all those princes did to their princesses in the fairy tales? Never had she felt more like a fool for letting her childhood fantasy play with her emotions, building a dream just to crush it down. There was an attraction she could no longer deny, but she knew better. While the man standing right in front of her was a real prince, their lives were anything but some stupid fairy tale.

"... I should go," she mumbled and motioned vaguely at the door to her room.

The disappointment on his face was as plain as daylight, but she refused to read too much into it. Not now. She would not let her childish fantasy play her like a fiddle again.

"Goodnight..." She quickly entered her room and closed the door behind her before he could respond.

He was a prince, King Maric's heir, not some knight in shining armor she could possibly fall in love with. Her heart sank to the bottom. Resting her forehead onto the wooden door, she closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

* * *

"Stay with me tonight". How hard was it to utter those four little words? What if he had said it, what then? Never had he felt so drawn to one person, so much so that he wanted to be as close to her as possible. There was a yearning he could no longer ignore, and he was never one who would take intimacy lightly. But even when every fiber of his being was telling him she was the right one, would she ever feel the same about him? He would never know, would he? Unless he was willing to try and find out...

Stepping up to the door, Alistair hesitated before he raised his hand to knock, but stopped right before his knuckles connected the wooden surface. Who was he to court the teyrn's daughter? He was just a bastard whose father happened to be Maric. Dropping his hand to his side, Alistair let out a heavy sigh and rested his forehead onto the wooden door, feeling more dejected that he would ever admit.

"Goodnight..." he mumbled to the cold surface before pushing himself away from the door.

Her floral scent still lingered around the hallway. Alistair took a long breath and greedily inhaled the fragrance. He finally recognized the smell – it was rose. It suited her perfectly, he mused. In many ways, she reminded him of the rose he picked in Lothering. Stunningly beautiful, seemingly untouchable with thorns guarding the soft and delicate flower, and very sweet if one dared to get close enough to smell it.

The lovely rose from Highever was behind the close door, and the one from Lothering was inside his pack in his room. What he wouldn't give to trade one for another right now. He dragged himself off to take a cold bath, mentally prepared for a long sleepless night.

Little did he know he was not the only sleepless Warden under the roof of this tiny inn tonight.


End file.
